I want to taste you
by KhaleesiEatTheRude221B
Summary: An FBI teacher with a temporary badge and an accomplished psychiatrist - that's what everyone sees. But there are literally bloody secrets hiding beneath the surface... What could have happened if Hannibal had succeeded in making Will his partner in crime and in life.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes:** I've watched a vid made by WittchBllade which gives you the feel that both Hannibal and Will are killers and cannibals. (Well, of course the mad chemistry and sexual tension is always there, not just in the vid.) Anyway, I decided that I wanted to work on this idea despite my current psychological state. Being the proud Hannigramer that I am, I decided to take things a bit further between them.

The story is named after the vid, because it's really awesome and gave me the idea.

Like all my stories, this story is unbeta'd. Also, English is not my native language. So, yeah, there might be some mistakes.

**Disclaimer:** Obviously I don't own anything but the story (and a Hannibal poster). I am merely playing with these awesome characters because I love them too much.

* * *

"Hanni, I'm home!"

Will smiled at his own words. He got no reply, so he stepped further into the spacious house. He supposed that the doctor was cooking one of their latest victims, so he headed towards the kitchen, his anticipation building up.

Suddenly he felt a pair of hands snaking around his neck. As he tried to fight his attacker and survive strangulation, feverish thoughts roamed his head like flies. Who was the attacker? How had he broken in? Why had he broken in? Had he discovered the secret that he and the doctor were hiding so well? Was Hannibal all right?

His attacker turned him around and kissed him. For one heartbeat Will panicked; then realization dawned on him, and he relaxed. He recognized those lips. How could he not? They had been all over him, tasting every inch of his body and setting fire to his skin.

He wanted to surrender, to let his "attacker" do as he wished with him, to be a slave to his desires. However, he gave in to his pride instead. He bit his "attacker's" lower lip and pulled away.

"You scared me, you bastard!"

Hannibal licked his bleeding lip, tasting both Will and his life substance. It was intoxicating. "Oh Will, don't be so melodramatic! You are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself," he said. "Besides, I made sure that you could breathe almost easily."

"That's not the point," Will argued. "I was worried about you. And I might have hurt you."

Hannibal smiled at him. "I am touched by your concern, Will," he said patiently, as if trying to teach a lesson to a child, "but I also am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. None of us would have gotten hurt. Not critically at least."

Will shook his head. There was no denying that they could take care of themselves, but there was also no denying that they could cause damage to one another. They both knew that. That was the risk of their relationship. And Will was drawn to it. He was drawn to the danger. It made him feel alive.

He looked at Hannibal. His smile had made his lip break open and bleed all over again. Will stroked his lover's cheek and lapped at his blood, licking him clean. He felt Hannibal shudder slightly as the arousing sensation hit him. Hannibal had always been the seductive member of their relationship, but sometimes Will could fascinate him with more than his mind, his empathy, and his killing skills.

Hannibal's tongue darted out of his lips and found Will's. This time the younger man did not resist. He gave in to his lover's kiss, gave in to his tongue and let it taste him. Will had read of really strong sensations while kissing, but he had believed that it was merely stuff written in Harlequin books. Hannibal had changed his mind. When they kissed, stars were exploding inside Will. It was, of course, even stronger when they made love.

Hannibal held the younger man's face between his palms. "How is it that you fascinate me so?" he wondered out loud.

"Hmm…I don't know why," Will teased his lover. "My lovely face? No, my body most likely. You just can't hold yourself when you see my six-pack."

Hannibal laughed softly. He kissed the younger man again. He could talk about his fascination in Will for ages. He knew, however, that it would only make Will feel bad. Good Will was many things, but self-centered was not one of them. At first he hadn't even wanted to elevate his murders to art. He hadn't wanted to impress anyone. Hannibal had shown him the beauty in death. He had reminded Will how elegant and graceful he had found his murders as the Chesapeake Ripper.

"Will, I was thinking of inviting Jack over for dinner tomorrow night," he said seriously out of the blue.

Will looked at the older man, unsure of what to say. "Well…um, okay. It's your house, you choose who you invite to it."

Will hadn't moved in with Hannibal. No one was aware of their relationship, and the more professional and friendly they made it look, the better. Hannibal didn't want to give anyone the right to suspect what they were apart from a psychiatrist and an FBI teacher with a temporary badge. Will saw the logic of it all and had agreed, but there were times when he wished things could be different. Hannibal gave meaning to his existence, made him feel important and loved. He was the only person that mattered in the empath's world; was it too much to want to be with him all the time despite the dangers?

"I would like you to be present as well, Will," Hannibal said.

"Really? Why?"

"Because we will have the opportunity to spend more time together. Because, if you're not there, I might start thinking of how to kill Jack."

"You want to kill Jack?"

"Yes," Hannibal said simply. "He's putting a lot of pressure on you, Will. He's pushing you to your limits and even beyond them. He is breaking you."

"Well, you're there to pick up the pieces and put them back together," Will said hesitantly. He let his words hover in the air. He wanted to see how Hannibal would react to them.

Hannibal looked deeply into Will's eyes. He took his time before answering, weighing the situation. Unlike Jack he cared about Will, but this didn't mean that he hadn't played with Will in his own way. He had manipulated the younger man until Will was finally free and pure. But Will didn't know that he had been led by Hannibal, and Hannibal had no intention to reveal his achieved master plan to Will.

"I will always be there for that," he finally said. "That doesn't mean that I like it. You've been through a lot, Will. You've been losing your mind. Now that everything is fixed, you should have some peace. Jack should see that."

"It's easier for me to look," Will admitted. "Now that…now that I'm a killer, it's easier. Yes, there are times that I'm afraid I might find something of our own work and I won't be able to cover it up, but it's still easier."

Hannibal nodded. "Still," he said, "I can't forget how he treated you in the past. I wanted to make him stop, but he always said that you're stronger than you look."

"You don't think I am?" Will asked, trying his best to look offended, but the corners of his mouth managed to pull up a little.

Hannibal mimicked him. "I don't know, I don't know," he teased the younger man. "You're really easy to tie to the bed."

Will blushed and looked down. Although he enjoyed his sexual encounters with Hannibal very much, he did not feel comfortable talking about it.

In the end, he took a deep breath and shrugged. "That's only because I allow you to." He could play too.

"And why do you allow me to, dear Will?"

Will bit his lower lip. He had fallen right into Hannibal's trap with his own words.

As Hannibal wasn't getting an answer, he pulled Will closer to him. His lips hovered over the younger man's lips but they didn't meet. Will closed his eyes as he felt Hannibal's hot breath on his face.

"Why do you allow me to, beautiful boy?" Hannibal whispered in Will's ear.

Will shuddered and replied, "Because I want you to. Because I like it. I want you to do it. I want _you_. Not being able to touch you makes your touch more…sensual, more intense, more powerful…"

Hannibal smiled. Even before their relationship turning that way, Hannibal had always been the one who approached Will, who touched Will, who came closer to Will. There had always been something about Will that made it hard for Hannibal to keep his hands away.

"So, will you come over for dinner tomorrow with me and Jack?" he asked all of a sudden.

Will slowly opened his eyes, still seduced by Hannibal and drunk on him. "Yes," he whispered.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Hannibal's handsome face. "Very well," he said like the professional psychiatrist that he was. "And now, let's go eat, shall we?"

Will looked at him, biting his lip. "Um…could we maybe skip to dessert?"

Hannibal grinned wolfishly at the sound of Will's words, imagining what he would do to his lover in bed. Of course they could skip to dessert. He hadn't cooked anything anyway…

* * *

Ta-da! So, this is it, fellow Fannibals. I don't know if it's good. I hope it is. I've been wanting to write some more Hannigram for some time now, but I had no ideas whatsoever.

Anyway, I'm not sure if I should write more to this. It could remain an open-ended one-shot, or it could become a multi-chapter story presumably with smut and cannibalism *wink*. I don't know. It's up to you and your reviews. Tell me if you want me to add more chapters or leave it like this. So, get ready to type!


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you all for the feedback! I am so excited! :D

A little side note: Cooking and I don't match. The article "Five Cannibal Recipes In Honor of _Hannibal_ Premiere Tonight On NBC" of Miami New Times helped a lot.

Warnings: cannibalism, violence, slash; nothing graphic.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my love for the show. All rights go to Thomas Harris, NBC, Bryan Fuller, and any other lucky bastard.

Note: The story is unbeta'd , English is not my native language, I tend to type really fast; so there might be some mistakes.

* * *

Jack Crawford looked at the plate set before him. Doctor Hannibal Lecter had decorated it magnificently, yet Jack could not help but feel a little reluctant.

"What am I about to put in my mouth, doctor?" he asked.

Hannibal took his seat at the head of the table, having Will on his right side and Jack on his left. He placed a napkin on his lap and looked at Jack. "Florentine Sweetbreads," he replied. "It's best to be eaten when it's hot, and it must be accompanied by the same wine used in the recipe: a fresh delicate white, slightly sweetish, with aromas of white flowers in bloom. Vivacious, spirited, almost bubbly."

Hannibal took his glass of wine and shook it a little, admiring the colour. Then, he smelled it and took a sip.

"And this is...brain," Jack observed.

"Yes, from sheep," Hannibal said. "You will like it, Jack. The fruit give a sweet taste, but the plate actually has a sweet/sour equilibrium."

"I always try something new when I come here for dinner, doctor." Jack smiled, and Hannibal returned the courtesy.

However, he was not interested in Jack. He was, of course, interested in Will. The younger man knew that apart from the oriental dried fruit and the acacia honey, Hannibal had used human brain. The psychiatrist remembered Will killing the victims by slitting their throats and letting the lovely, sticky blood flow out of them until they were dead.

Will had tasted human meat before, many times without knowing it. Now he knew that Hannibal cooked people and he had accepted it, but there were times when the doctor feared that the younger man might refuse to eat his meals and perhaps even leave. Hannibal didn't want that to happen. Not only would he lose the first (and most likely last) person who had ever made him feel the way that Will did, but he would also have to kill him. He couldn't just allow someone who knew his secrets to wander around. Hannibal would hate to kill Will, but if things ever got that way he would have to.

Will didn't say anything. He looked at the doctor for a few heartbeats, then he picked up his knife and his fork and began to cut a piece of the brain. Hannibal took another sip of his wine and watched Will. He really enjoyed watching Will eat something that he had cooked.

Will opened his mouth and placed the bit of brain in it. Hannibal remembered all those times that the younger man had taken him in his mouth, pleasuring him with his talented lips and tongue. Thankfully, Hannibal had always been able to hide his emotions and be perfectly collected, so he showed no sign of what sort of memories he was replaying in his mind.

When Will swallowed his bite, he licked his lips. It would all seem normal to Jack, but Hannibal knew that the younger man was putting on a show in order to provoke him, to set him on edge. Hannibal would like to put his hand under the table and "take care" of Will, but he wasn't close enough for that.

"It is delicious," Jack said and Hannibal turned to him. "Very good, as always."

A whisper of a smile appeared on Hannibal's handsome face. If only Jack knew just what he was really eating...

"Yes," Will agreed, avoiding eye contact and speaking as if it was hard for him to do so. "It is really good."

Hannibal's smile widened as he looked at the younger man. It was still hard for Will to be social, but talking to Hannibal had been rather easy even when the latter was only his psychiatrist and friend. However, even now there was still in him some sort of innocence one might say, and Hannibal very much enjoyed tainting that innocence.

"Thank you both," he said. "And thank you for coming. It's always nice to have good friends for dinner."

Jack smiled again and took another bite of his food. Will, however, paid more attentions to the host's words and looked at him. Hannibal knew that Will was wondering whether he would eat him and Jack at some point. Of course he would not eat Jack; the disappearance of such an important man might lead to his exposure. And Will...Will was too important to him. He could kill him if he had to, but he really didn't want to.

* * *

Dessert was a simple affair. Hannibal chose a classic: crème brûleé. This had no human parts in it. But Hannibal hoped that one day he would find a way to use human parts in a dessert. He had succeeded in turning a human into beer after all.

"Ah, this is Bella's favourite dessert," Jack said a little sadly.

"How is she?" Will asked.

Jack sighed. "She's not going to get better," he said even more sadly, "but she's not alone. I do what I can to make her feel better. Tonight she wanted to take a long walk, to see places she used to go to...By the way, doctor, I'm afraid I'll have to leave right after dessert. I don't want Bella to stay at home alone for long."

Hannibal made himself look sad. Being a psychopath he did not feel the way that someone else would feel in his place, but at least he knew that Bella was a nice person and Jack was devastated by her illness.

"Of course," he said. "Give her my greetings and tell her that she is invited here for dinner whenever she feels like it."

Will studied the doctor. He was not quite sure whether he was truly sorry or if he had merely put on a mask. He wasn't quite sure that he cared. He often pretended himself now. He had to hide his true face because he was not just an empathy anymore - he was also a killer who knew a terrible secret. Sometimes he wondered whether Hannibal would kill him for knowing what he did. When Hannibal said, "It's always nice to have good friends for dinner", the same question came back to haunt his mind. He did not want to think of Hannibal that way, but he knew that the doctor was a psychopath.

While Will was lost in his own thoughts, Hannibal and Jack had turned the conversation to more pleasant subjects. Will was not really paying attention to them. He was looking at Hannibal. He had his hair slicked back. will wasn't sure what to make of that. Was the doctor being more collected, or did he have his face open to whomever truly looked at him?

Jack said something that made Hannibal laugh. All of a sudden, Will wanted to draw the doctor's attention on him. He slowly licked the custard from the spoon, not looking provocative but hoping that Hannibal would notice him.

And Hannibal did. He tasted some of the dessert wishing that it was Will. His eyes bore into the younger man. He could smell the underlying scent of arousal, and that aroused him all the more. All good things to those who wait, he told himself.

* * *

When Jack left, Hannibal took his time to pick up the dishes and take them to the kitchen in order to wash them. He wanted Will right then and there, but he had to control himself. He couldn't spoil the image of the always perfectly collected man. Besides, he knew that he wouldn't have to wait long.

And sure enough, Will followed him into the kitchen after a short while. Hannibal turned around to face him, and the younger man kissed him with need. He had the finesse of a horny teenager, sloppy and desperate.

When Hannibal broke the kiss, Will almost whimpered. Hannibal grinned wolfishly. Poor Will had no control over his desire. The doctor palmed his manhood roughly over the fabric of Will's jeans, making him groan. It was a rich, primitive sound. It excited Hannibal.

"Please..." Will breathed.

"Please what?"

"Please take me."

Hannibal had every intention of doing so, but even though he was already very aroused, he wanted to delay the act. He wanted to play with Will, to feel him, to make him beg again and again. He would take his time in leading him to the master bedroom and divesting his clothing and mental fortresses as if they were mere spider webs in his path. Will was his and his alone, body and soul.

He kissed the younger man full on the lips, their passion so powerful that it could burn them both. Will pressed himself against Hannibal until it was hard to tell where the one ended and the other began. But Hannibal didn't mind. He had already ridden Will of any doubt as to who was in control. He was the hammer that shaped Will and the water that hardened him.

* * *

You all have made me really excited about this story! You are the best! More chapters to come, to be sure!

Feedback is love! x


	3. Chapter 3

Yes, rating has gone up to M...

I want to thank everyone for the feedback! You can't possibly imagine how happy you make me!

Thanks to all the visitors who left a review. Natalia Przekop, "Ladders and Manipulation" is going to be a one-shot, but don't worry because there will be many chapters in this one.

Warnings: slash (duh), breathplay, frottage, asphyxiation (don't worry, everyone is okay), masturbation.

Read irresponsibly and enjoy!

* * *

"Will, I would like to talk about fantasies."

Will looked at Hannibal, rather taken aback by the words. Fantasies? Will had never talked to anyone about his fantasies. Then again, there were many things about Will that only Hannibal Lecter knew.

"Fantasies?"

"Yes," Hannibal replied neutrally. "Most specifically, your fantasies. There must be something...out of the ordinary that you would like to try or repeat."

"No," Will immediately said firmly. He wanted to stop the conversation now. He did not feel comfortable at all. He could not tell Hannibal about his fantasies, about that one fantasy that he had pictured Hannibal turning into reality. Hannibal would be repulsed. He would hate him.

Hannibal was patient. He knew that Will was hiding the truth from him and he wanted to dig it out. He wanted to know. And he would.

He smiled ever so slightly. "Will," he said with apprehension and affection, as if Will was a little child, "you don't have to lie to me. I have opened myself to you. I have opened my arms and my heart to you, taken you under my wing, made you my equal and my partner. You are the only one who sees my true face. You have no reason to hide the truth from me. One might say that you must be honest with me."

Will remembered college, spending hours in the library, pouring over old medical textbooks, reports of hanged men having ejaculated during their ordeals, essays on autoerotic asphyxiation, and the statistics of the annual deaths via the practice. He still read this sort of thing on the internet. No one knew it, though. He had never told anyone.

He took a deep breath before finally making his confession. "I...sometimes when a victim is found strangled, I...I wonder what it would be like if I were experiencing what the victim did."

It sounded so ridiculous even to himself. He did not dare look at Hannibal. He did not even know what to expect. To be laughed at? To be yelled at? To be thrown out? Worse?

"Have you ever tried?" Hannibal asked in his professional voice after a pause.

Will supposed that he was grateful for Hannibal's reaction. It wasn't approval, but it wasn't disapproval either. That was not so bad.

"No," Will answered. "It's too...too dangerous. So many people die every year trying to...I don't want to die really..."

"Of course not, William," Hannibal said and there was warmth in his voice. Will looked at him and saw a smile softening the doctor's features. "So, you have fantasized but not acted?"

Will nodded.

"Would you like to?"

Will blinked. "What?"

Hannibal sat next to his young lover on the couch. This was getting really interesting. Will had a very intriguing fantasy. Very intriguing indeed.

"Do you see this as a perversion you wish to repress? Or do you see it as a pleasure you wish to indulge in with someone in a safe way?"

Will could not face the doctor, now right at that moment. Instead, he focused his eyes on his shoes. He imagined the laces curling up his legs and wrapping around his neck, thin cords biting against his skin, making it difficult for him to breathe.

"I want to feel it," he admitted.

Hannibal put a hand under the younger man's chin, making him face him. "Now?" he asked, and his voice sounded strained even to himself. Will's fantasy had coloured him interested. He wanted to do it. He wanted to touch and feel Will in a different way, in that way.

Will was surprised. Not only was Hannibal offering to do such a thing, he actually seemed to like it, to want it, to be looking forward to it. Someone might become alert and grow worried, but Will knew that Hannibal would not kill him. Not in that moment at least. That wasn't Hannibal's design.

"Yes," he said. "If you don't mind."

"Would you prefer my hands or some kind of cord?" Hannibal asked.

"Your hands," Will replied immediately. "It would be...safer, I don't know. I trust you."

Hannibal grinned. It was marvelous, lovely, almost amusing, that Will still trusted him even though he knew the truth, he had seen who Hannibal Lecter truly was.

"Very well," the good doctor said. "Put your hands behind your back."

Will did as he was told like a good dog. He was surprised when Hannibal removed his tie and wound it around the younger man's wrists. Hannibal was always so neat, so careful and meticulous with his clothing and appearance, it was almost that he would use his own tie, risking the fabric being ruined while Will struggled.

Hannibal straddled the younger man, his weight pressing Will's back against the sofa, keeping his legs from fleeing. Will was overwhelmed with anticipation, although he didn't really want to admit it.

Hannibal leaned forward, pressing his face against Will's neck. Will shivered as he felt the older man's hot breath on his skin, his talented lips on his ear, his teeth grazing his neck. Will tried not to moan. It was a matter of pride. He did not want to give Hannibal the satisfaction to know that he could finish Will off so easily.

"How far do you wish to take this, Will?" Hannibal asked, and his teeth dragged along the length of the younger man's neck, tasting but not hurting. "Just a little feel? Until you black out?"

"Until I black out, if you can." Will knew that he was asking for too much. He allowed himself to have a moment of doubt, to consider that maybe Hannibal would take it too far, that Hannibal would kill him. Will knew how easy it was for the doctor to kill. Will was offering himself to him, almost like a sacrifice to a god. What sort of god would refuse a sacrifice from his worshipers?

Will gulped, and in the silence of the room it sounded really loud. "I'm ready," he said, doing his best to sound calm.

Hannibal stroked Will's neck with one hand, then with the other. It would be best to take things slow, to help Will relax, to make him peaceful. He would still fight (often not even Hannibal could control his instincts), but he would be calm and would not panic. The doctor rubbed, tracing muscles and arteries, mapping Will's neck with his fingers.

Will squirmed, half-hard already. He didn't feel ashamed anymore. He only felt the need for more. He had kept his eyes open, so he got the chance to see Hannibal's eerie, hungry smile before he closed his hands in a loop around the empathy's neck.

The pressure was light. Too light for Will's liking. He had expected Hannibal to be more...violent.

"More," he gasped. "Please, more."

Hannibal said nothing. He increased the pressure, cutting off Will's air. That was better. Now his grip was consistent and strong and that didn't change even though Will's body struggled. The basic need of survival made Will's legs jerk and kick. His vision was swimming, blurring. His lungs were on fire. No air, no air.

And yet Hannibal did not stop. He was strong. He kept Will pinned down on the sofa, both of his hands still around the empath's throat. Will's bound hands squirmed, but they could do nothing with all that weight pressing against them and being behind Will's back.

"Oh, Will..." Hannibal moaned. He could not stop himself. The sight was exquisite, addictive, seductive, magnetizing. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Will's gaping mouth. Will's tongue flailed, frantic as his weak body cried out for air, and Hannibal caught it between his teeth. At that moment Will got the uncomfortable but intimate sensation of Hannibal trying to draw the oxygen from his lungs, sucking back on the kiss. Will was powerless over him and could do nothing as he faded. Hannibal only broke the kiss when Will's head started to loll from weakness.

Will's orgasm shocked him, building quickly and hitting his body violently. It left him exhausted and unpleasantly sticky, but he enjoyed it immensely.

However, he was seeing black spots now. His brain wasn't working like it should. It was fuzzy and clumsy. It did not feel like his own mind at all.

Most likely he imagined what happened next, in his haze of oxygen deprivation. He felt Hannibal rocking against him. He felt the pressure of Hannibal's erection trapped between their bodies. Did Hannibal like it? Was he actually enjoying it? Was he a pervert? Did he have disturbing fantasies? Or was he just excited by being so close to killing Will?

Will blacked out before he could even confirm that it hadn't just been in his imagination.

* * *

When Hannibal realized that Will had finally fainted, he tried to put a leash on himself. As much as he desired Will, he could not ravish the man while he was unconscious. Nor rub himself against him.

Nevertheless, his arousal was simply too difficult to ignore. So, Hannibal seated himself near Will and released his manhood from its fabric prison. He had no time to go get lubrication from his bedroom. His need was too great at the moment. He licked his palm, bathed it generously in saliva, and closed his fingers around the base of his cock.

Not long after, moans were escaping his lips. He tightened his grip and thumbed at the head of his cock, toying with the slit. He kept thinking of Will. Of the first time they met. Of the first time they had been intimate - both as lovers and as killers. He remembered the sensation of strangling Will to unconsciousness.

Hannibal thrusted into his fist and looked at Will. He looked like a fallen angel with his eyes closed and his head on one side. Hannibal had been drawn to that purity since the beginning. He had wanted to conquer it. And now it was his. Will was his.

* * *

Will woke up on the sofa, to Hannibal checking his pulse. He noticed that the doctor had changed clothes. He also noticed that himself had been cleaned. He imagined Hannibal pulling his pants down and cleaning him off while he was still unconscious. He moaned and hoped that Hannibal would attribute it the regaining of his consciousness.

"I would advise you against speaking right now, Will," the good doctor said. "Your throat will be sore for a few days. And those bruises will be slow to fade. But worry not, I haven't caused any permanent damage."

Will nodded and immediately winced. Even that hurt. But the pain was good. it made him feel alive and real.

Hannibal handed him a notebook and a pen in case he wanted to write something. He used them immediately, scribbling "thank you" on the paper and holding it up for Hannibal to see.

The latter smiled. "No need to thank me, my dear Will. You need this, so I gave it to you. That's why I'm here. I've always been here to help you, any way I can."

Will smiled and looked down. It sounded a little bit cheesy (something that he had never expected from Hannibal Lecter), but it really warmed his heart. There was one person in the world who would listen to him no matter, what he had to say, and not look at him strangely. There was one person in the world who could understand him.

Will kissed Hannibal softly. Hannibal didn't push him, didn't attempt to deepen the kiss. Will wasn't sure, but he thought that he was happy.


	4. Chapter 4

Yes, yes, another chapter. Thank you all for the feedback! Happy New Year!

No beta read.

Swiggity swagness, embrace the madness.

oOo

Will held the knife in his hand as if it were a sacred object, as if it could break. He knew that Hannibal's favourite weapon was a blade. Guns were so impersonal, so messy, and harder to carry and hide. But a blade? It was easier to have a blade on you. You could do so many things to someone with it. And you were so close to your victim, feeling them, seeing every detail as you tried to decide what to do with them and as you performed your act.

Will held the man down with a gloved hand and his weight. He lifted the other hand (also gloved of course) and used it to scratch the man's cheek. The man whimpered, although he had barely lost any blood. Will had only just begun.

Hannibal knelt close to Will. Not too close, giving him his space; but close enough. He could not miss his lover's beautiful performance.

Will did not look at Hannibal. He was aware of his gaze, feeling it on his skin. He knew that he would be watching – his audience had always been devoted and enraptured. All that Will could see now, though, was the man. The man that he was going to kill.

The knife bit into the shirt, disposing it of all its buttons. The man was not really fit, but he was not bad to the eye. Not that it mattered really. Hannibal always knew what to do with the fat of his food.

Will rested the cold blade on the man's chest, right where the heart was. The man was breathing fast and he was sobbing. Hannibal found him a rather pathetic sight, but he knew that the flavor would not be pathetic at all.

The blade tore into the skin. The man began to scream, but Will went on. Nothing could stop him now. This was his crowning moment, the moment when he took a life, the moment when he felt oh so powerful and nothing could touch him.

The knife, biting the skin all the way, met the man's belt. There was a perfect red line on the man's torso. However, the man was still very much alive. Will was not done with him yet, oh no.

He thrust the knife deeper into the man, tearing him open but not destroying the organs inside. The man screamed and screamed and screamed, but Will did not falter, not even for a moment. He thought that he heard Hannibal's breath go a little faster, but he wasn't sure. He could hear his own breathing, his own heartbeat, steady at first, then going faster because of all the adrenaline, all the excitement.

Will carefully laid the knife down and put both of his hands inside the dying man. He felt the organs, the stomach, the liver. He softly touched the heart, the lungs. He felt the man's last breath leave his broken body. He held the heart in his hand and felt nothing.

Will let out a breath, a sigh. It had been marvelous. So exciting, so freeing.

He turned to Hannibal and held out a hand. The doctor had been grinning at him, obviously satisfied by his work. The grin widened as he saw the hand. He leaned in close, looking at the younger man mischievously. Then, he slowly began to lap at the hand, to lick all the blood that stained it. The blood had a salty and coppery taste (the glove didn't taste that good), but what Hannibal enjoyed more was Will's shivers as he kept licking.

When he was done, Will seemed disappointed. So, Hannibal took hold of his other arm and started lapping at all the blood he could find there. He could smell the scent of Will's arousal, but he would do nothing about it as of yet – well, perhaps nothing but to make it harder to endure – because that wasn't the place.

"Well done, William," he said when he was done.

Will smiled. "Thank you." There was not much else that he could say. Hannibal had taken every word out of him. He just wanted to feel him, all of him.

All of a sudden, Hannibal grabbed Will and kissed him rather violently. He was giving him a taste of the victim's blood, of his own work. Will was pushing his upper body as close to Hannibal as he could, given that both of them were still on their knees. He wanted to be one with the doctor, to be consumed by him.

Sometimes Will still thought that he was losing his mind. The way that he felt about Hannibal, and the way that Hannibal made him feel…It could be defined as addiction, obsession, self destruction. Will was drawn to Hannibal as a moth is drawn to flame. He knew that Hannibal could burn him, but he was so attracted to him that he could not prevent himself from getting close, from surrendering, no matter the outcome.

When Hannibal broke the kiss, he began to stroke Will's cheek. Even the barest of touch excited Will. He was certain that Hannibal knew it; he must have noticed. But there was little pride left in him to care about that. Hannibal could play with him, and they both knew it; there was no point in denying it or trying to convince the doctor otherwise.

However, Will had to admit that he was more in control now. More in control of himself. He could control his emotions. He felt calmer, more collected. He felt more like Hannibal. Everyone thought that he was recovering. They did not know the bloody (quite literally) truth.

"Will," Hannibal said, bringing the younger man back to reality, "you once said that killing someone is the ugliest thing there is. Do you still believe that?"

"No. Not anymore. I…I feel powerful. I enjoy it. I feel calm, peaceful, like killing lifts a weight off my shoulders."

Hannibal smiled. He was satisfied by Will's answer. "You are pure," he said. He had succeeded.

oOo

Hannibal stacked the last of the meat in the refrigerator. He already had a few ideas considering what recipe he might use it in.

When he turned around, he found Will standing there, watching him. He was not surprised – he had already smelled the younger man. The latter slowly approached the former. Not afraid, not hesitant; just teasing. Hannibal smiled; the old Will rarely ever acted like that, approaching instead of waiting to be approached, seducing instead of being seduced.

His lips met Hannibal's, just a brush. He looked at Hannibal and kissed him again, this time full on the mouth. Their hot, wet tongues fought for dominance until Hannibal surrendered. Will's tongue made its own trip inside Hannibal's mouth, tasting every corner of it. Will was holding the older man possessively. Hannibal accepted it all. Will was still aware of who had the control.

Hannibal broke the kiss and took Will by the hand. He took a seat and guided Will to sit on his lap. He wrapped his arms around the younger man's body, holding him right where he wanted him.

With one hand on the back of Will's head, he pulled the empath to him, their hungry mouths finding each other in burning passion. Before long, they were themselves against the other, creating a friction. Will's breath had quickened, and his need to feel Hannibal had elevated in great degree.

Soon, most of their clothes were gone, thrown all around the kitchen. One of Hannibal's fingers was inside Will, hitting just the right spot. Will was moaning, holding on to his lover αs though for dear life, scattering heated kisses all over him.

Hannibal added a second finger, scissoring his young lover open. He kissed Will on the neck, sucking his pulse point, tasting the aftershave that he had bought for him (being so intimate with Will, he did not like the smell of those with a ship on the bottle) and salty sweat.

When Hannibal pushed in a third digit, Will gasped. He was rocking against the three fingers, loving their feel inside him but needing to feel something thicker.

And before he even knew what was happening, his wish became true. They were on the kitchen floor, and he was riding Hannibal's cock. His hands were on Hannibal's chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath his palms and his hair through his fingers. Hannibal had one hand on Will's waist, pushing him further down, and another around Will's manhood, stroking it from base to tip.

Will could not suppress his moans. Hannibal was breathing faster, panting. He was looking Will straight in the eye, and that aroused Will even more.

They came at the same time, Hannibal releasing himself inside Will, Will releasing himself on Hannibal's flat stomach. Hannibal let out a groan – a rich, powerful, primitive sound. Will screamed Hannibal's name.

When they came down from their blissful high, Will lay on the floor, right next to Hannibal. He looked at the older man and grinned. He had to admit that he found it rather surprising that they had had sex on the kitchen floor.

As his heartbeats slowly began to fall down to normal, he trusted himself to speak. "Um…I'll bring you a tissue for the…" He pointed to Hannibal's abdomen.

Hannibal looked at the mess on his body. He looked at Will and grinned wolfishly. Then, he ran his fingers through Will's cum and started licking them, one by one, savouring the rather sweet flavor. Will watched him and gasped, his breathing once again escalating. For just one second, he imagined Hannibal eating him up, devouring him, consuming him.

There was nothing that he could do about his attraction to Hannibal Lecter, about his addiction. He could only give in to it. And burn. Or sink. Or fly.

oOo

And…done! I feel that I'm not really good at writing smut, but I just really wanted to write some really hot Hannigram.

I have an announcement to make. My exams are coming, so I'll be a bit busy studying. That means that I might not have much time for new chapters. However, reading Constitutional Law might actually give me some inspiration, who knows; so don't worry, it won't take me months to update.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feedback is love! x


	5. Chapter 5

_I'm back! I have to tell you that the story is drawing to an end. This isn't the last chapter of course! There will be some more._

_No beta read, as always._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

"How are you?" Will asked. The question sounded rather idiotic to him, considering what turn the addressed person's life had taken. Still, it felt like the right thing to say.

Abigail Hobs shrugged. "Okay, I guess," she said. 'I'm kinda getting used to...to everything."

Will wanted to take her hands in his, to hold her close to his body, to take her under his wing and protect him from everything and everyone. However, he knew that he was not the right person for it. He had killed the girl's father; no amount of guilt could ever erase that or make Abigail truly and fully forgive him.

"Is Hannibal going to come see me?" Abigail asked. She sounded a little hurt and disappointed.

Will had killed Abigail's father, but he still hoped that Abigail could trust him and get close to him. He had to admit that the fact that Abigail was a lot closer to Hannibal hurt him.

"I guess," he said although he had no idea. He just wanted to comfort her, to make her feel better. In all truth, he and Hannibal had not had any conversation about the Hobbs girl.

A whisper of a smile appeared on Abigail's youthful face. She carried many scars, but those were inside her and could not be seen. Honestly, she was quite beautiful. But she would never be innocent again. Ever.

Abigail leaned in a little. Will looked at her, trying not to look scared and shaken but also being unable to stay away from her. Damn him.

Abigail blinked rapidly a couple of times, then leaned back to her chair. She looked as if she had discovered something, something that she hadn't expected to know but secretly had always been aware of. It made Will curious; also a wave of unease washed all over him.

Will tried to connect with her, to feel what she felt. It was easier to connect with killers. A part of him told him that this should worry him, even scare him; but he did not listen to it. He just tried to focus on Abigail Hobbs, on her emotions. It was not easy. She was so confused. Even she did not know exactly what she felt.

"Abigail, what is wrong?" he asked.

'You mean, apart from the fact that my dad killed girls that looked like me so that he wouldn't kill me and then fed them to us? Apart from the fact that my dad killed my mom and tried to kill me? Apart from the fact that you killed my dad and I've been in a hospital for the criminally insane ever since?"

Will wanted to kick himself senseless. How could he be so stupid? Everything was wrong for Abigail. Her life had fallen to pieces. Everything was a ruin. Her eyes were wet, but she did not let the tears fall. She looked more like she was angry instead of sad. Although Will was convinced of Abigail's innocence, he could not deny that she often demonstrated enough emotion to pass as human. But then again, he worked the same way. And so did Hannibal.

She blinked and the tears were gone. "It's just that...I thought that I belonged somewhere again, with you and Hannibal, but I've lost that as well."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, now that you're together you're hardly going to care about me, right?"

Will blinked. He looked around, his eyes roaming all over the room, falling everywhere except on Abigail. "What are you talking about?" he asked, finally fixing his gaze on his shoes.

He could feel Abigail's piercing blue eyes on him but did not look up. How could Abigail know? If she knew, who else did? What kind of effect would it have on his life?

"Well, you're together, aren't you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You smell like him."

Will swallowed and thought that everyone heard it.

"Don't be offended or anything, but you used to smell...like a cheap aftershave. Now you don't. You smell like expensive cologne, the sort of thing that Hannibal uses."

Will did not look up at her. He did not dare to open his mouth either.

"Hey, I don't mind," Abigail said. "It's cool. I think you look nice together."

"Don't tell anyone". He felt so embarrassed, so awkward. His relationship with Hannibal was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time, but still.

"I'll keep your secret," she promised. "Besides, who would believe me?"

Will wanted to say that he was sorry. That she was not crazy. But it didn't matter. They were empty words, sweet nothings, pretenses to make her feel better. They would not help, though. Abigail did not appreciate hypocrisy. She wanted honesty. She wanted the truth. But the truth could not comfort her.

"Aren't you afraid of him?"

Will slowly looked up at her. No one knew that Hannibal (and he) killed. If Abigail was capable of seeing that, others would see it as well. "Why should I be afraid of him?" he asked innocently, pretending that he was unaware of Hannibal's darkness.

"You know...because he called our house - and almost all of us died."

Will blinked yet again, his eyelids moving like butterfly wings. "W-what?"

Abigail's eyes widened. "You...you didn't know?" she asked, her voice breaking. "I...I thought he had told you, being so intimate now and all."

Will shook his head.

What other secrets was Hannibal hiding beneath his perfect exterior?

Why had he called the Hobbs residence? What was the point of it? What other things like that had Hannibal done? What would he do with Will himself?

"I'm sorry," Abigail said and her voice was coloured with honesty.

Will held her hand and almost smiled as she did not pull back. "It's okay."

Except that it wasn't. It was not okay at all.

* * *

_Okay, no Hannigram action in this one, but there will be in the next chapter. I just really wanted to write some Abigail. Bear with me._

_Thank you all for the lovely feedback! Keep doing that! :)_


	6. Chapter 6

Will found himself smiling at this moment of bliss that, unlike most times, had nothing to do with killing or fucking. It was just the three of them, the unholy family, the monsters.

Hannibal was sitting at the head of the table. Will was on his right and Abigail on his left. Her magnetizing blue eyes were bright and cheerful. Her skin looked paler than usual, yet she looked perfectly healthy. Her youthful face was beautiful as always, a sweet smile making her look innocent. She was wearing a white shirt that brought out the whiteness of her complexion and the colour of her eyes.

Hannibal was, as always, perfect. Every little move was measured and scheduled. Everything was intended. His eyes gave away nothing. They were not cold, but they were empty in a non-alarming way. Sometimes they looked red, but there was nothing dangerous about them.

Dinner was to be served, yet Hannibal remained in the dining room, looking at his two guests. Will was enjoying the moment too much to complain. Abigail, however, decided to ruin everything.

"Um, Hannibal...I'm a bit hungry."

Hannibal looked at her and smiled warmly. "Yes, of course," he said. "Forgive me, Abigail; I was so drunk in the sight of both of you that I forgot."

Abigail chuckled and looked down. Will thought that she was blushing, but he decided to not look at her and make her feel uncomfortable. Hannibal left the room and walked towards the kitchen.

After some time, Abigail looked up. "So, how are things between you two?" she asked.

Will felt like a schoolgirl chatting about her crush with her best friend in the dark room when they were supposed to be sleeping. "Really well," he said. "Hannibal doesn't know that you know, though."

"Okay, that's cool. I want to see whether he'll ever tell me. Hannibal doesn't seem to ever let anyone in any part of his life."

"He has done it with me," Will said immediately but suddenly remembered that Hannibal had not told him about calling the Hobbs family. What other things had he kept secret?

"Has he really?" Abigail said, a lopsided grin making her face dangerous and a little scary and demented.

Will did not reply. He hated to admit it, but Abigail was right. He didn't really know Hannibal. He knew him better than others, but he still did not know him.

There were bloody secrets hiding beneath Will's skin. What sort of secrets was Hannibal hiding?

Speak of the Devil...Hannibal entered the dining room. Except that there were no plates in his hands. The only thing that he carried with him was a knife.

Will finally felt the danger. How could he not have noticed? Threat was oozing out of the doctor's every pore. He was a beast ready to attack. And now he had come to attack; but Will saw that too late.

Hannibal stood behind Abigail. Her smile began to slowly melt off her pale face. She did not turn around to look at the monster at her back. Instead, she fixed her gaze on Will. Her eyes were not pleading; she was not asking for help. It seemed that she was trying to send him another message. A much simpler one. Run.

However, Will did not run. He felt like he could not move. For the life of him, he could not force himself to go away from that place. He was fixed to his spot, as if Hannibal had previously applied glue to the chair.

But it had nothing to do with glue. It was Will's addiction. No matter what he saw, no matter what he was aware of, he could not go away from Hannibal.

The doctor raised the knife and slit Abigail's throat. Abigail made no noise whatsoever. Her eyes widened as her blood left her body and stained her pale skin and her white shirt. She looked like a vanquished angel.

Will woke up panting. His night clothes were clinging to his skin. Sweat was surrounding him. The claw of fright was scratching his spine. Fear had its hand wrapped around his heart.

And Will wept.

* * *

Sorry, I know that this is a short chapter, but that was what I could write today (blame Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss - they have killed every Sherlockian).

Yes, more Abigail. Once again, bear with me. I really love her and found in this story the opportunity to write about her a bit.

I think that the next chapter is going to be the last one. Don't worry, it will be longer than this one.

Feedback is love and the motivation to write more. So, you know what to do! x


	7. Chapter 7

Last chapter, people! Thank you all for reading the story and supporting me!

By the way, how awesome is the trailer?

* * *

Thoughts, poisonous thoughts roamed Will's head like flies around a corpse. He could not stop thinking about...well, everything. What his life had become. If he had been stable, could he have had a happy, normal life with Alana? Or with anyone, really. Could he have had that? Ever? Or had he always been destined for the darkness?

The darkness had come to him in the name of Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Will should not have found him interesting, ever. Things would have been easier, simpler.

How hypocritical of him. Hannibal had introduced him to a new sort of life, a life of death and pleasure. He had given him peace through killing. Will liked it. Will had enjoyed every moment of it.

He did not deserve to be with Alana. He should not be. He would destroy her.

Hannibal did not destroy him. He did not even corrupt him. Will had already been corrupted. All Hannibal had done was elevate Will's corruption to something else.

In all truth, Will was not sure why Abigail's revelation had upset him (and was still upsetting him) so much. He knew that Hannibal killed people and ate them (and served them to other, unsuspecting people).

Will felt feverish as he tried to think. He felt more unstable than ever. But he did not let go. He stared into his own soul, trying to figure out what was bothering him like that.

He was a little ashamed to realise that he was not upset because Hannibal had caused the death of two people and the eternal inner scarring of a girl. He felt sorry for Abigail and wanted to take her under his wing and protect her from the cruelty of this world - but that was not really the reason. He must have been turning into a sociopath.

The real reason was fear. Hannibal was not just a killer. He was a psychopath. He could feel no guilt, no remorse. He could betray anyone in the blink of an eye if that suited his interests. And that scared Will. He had developed certain...feelings for Hannibal, but the doctor did not necessarily feel the same way. He could not feel the same way.

Will wished he could erase it. He wasn't certain whether he wanted to erase Hannibal and their relationship or just the revelation that had abruptly woken him from the blissful dream he was living in.

* * *

He knocked on Hannibal's door. There was still time for him to leave, to pretend that he knew nothing and keep living his new life with Hannibal by his side, always. Yes, he could.

No. No. He had to confront the psychopath. He had to do it. He could not keep living in this perfect lie. He had to end it all.

The door slowly opened, and Hannibal appeared. He looked at Will and smiled. Will felt himself melt bit by bit. Why did Hannibal have to make it harder than it already was?

"Will, hello. I was not expecting you."

"Well, I thought of dropping by. If you're busy or something, I could go."

Part of Will prayed that Hannibal was busy. That part of him wanted to leave, to flee.

But another part of him wanted to escape. And he would not escape by fleeing.

"No, of course not. Come on in."

Hannibal stepped aside to let Will get inside and closed the door behind them. He followed Will into the living room. He could tell that there was something wrong with the empath. He did not pursue the matter, though. He was certain that Will would tell him eventually.

He told him sooner than either of them had expected.

"You called the Hobbs' house before we went there," he stated after turning around to face the cannibal. "It was when you dropped those files, wasn't it?"

Hannibal's face hardened for a moment. He concealed it immediately with a mask of perfect blankness, but Will had seen it. His face had looked like a skull.

"What are you talking about, William?"

"You know damn well what I'm talking about!"

"Who told you?"

"Abigail."

Hannibal sighed. He had expected Abigail to keep his secret. Now he would have to get rid of her. It was too soon. He wanted her in his life a little longer. In a way, she reminded him of Mischa...Mischa...Dead. Like the person he used to be.

"And you believed her?"

"Yes," Will said defiantly. There was no convincing him otherwise, it seemed.

"So, why are you here now, Will? I don't think you merely wanted to inform me that you are aware of the phone call."

"No," Will said, his voice a little lower. "I wanted to ask why. Why did you do it?"

Hannibal shrugged. There was no reason to pretend anymore. The game was coming to an end. The curtain was drawing to a close. He actually felt a little sad.

"I wanted to see what would happen," he replied.

"And when you saw, were you pleased?"

"I have seen more intriguing crime scenes, more exciting deaths. But I guess it was nice to see what a little thing such as a simple phone call could cause. Two people died, one almost died and now has to live with her father's crimes forever, and you...you, my dear Will, became my new toy."

Will looked at Hannibal, trying not to show any emotion, but he wasn't sure that he was being successful. Hannibal was so at ease, so comfortable, proud of what he had done.

And he saw Will as nothing but his toy. Will was nothing but a puppet and Hannibal controlled his strings. At least he had not tried to cut them.

He could, though. Will knew, with a heart-freezing, numbing certainty, that Hannibal could easily kill him if that served his purposes. If he had to. Or, even, if he just wanted to see what would happen.

Will had to act. And he had to act now.

He approached Hannibal slowly. Not like a predator. Not seductively. The way he approached most people: like an antisocial person who did not want to be around others.

Quickly he took his knife out of his jacket pocket and stabbed Hannibal on the abdomen. At the same time, though, he felt something. He felt pain. He gasped. He looked down and saw Hannibal's scalpel buried in his stomach. Somehow he managed to look up at Hannibal, draw his knife out - causing more blood to ooze out of Hannibal's wound - and see the grimace of pain on Hannibal's handsome face before he fell on the floor.

He did not bother to get the scalpel out. He had been so stupid. Hannibal kept carrying that bloody thing in order to sharpen his pencils - and for more than that.

Hannibal fell on his knees. "How fitting," he rasped. "We are just alike and we die in the same way."

"Getting sentimental, Doctor Lecter?" Will mocked him.

Hannibal laughed or made a sound like laughter at least. "My only flaw, Will...And you're the reason for it."

Will looked at the older man as he fell on the floor as well. Was Hannibal trying to say something to him? Did the psychopath actually have feelings for the empath?

Unfortunately, eternal darkness surrounded Will before he could ask.

* * *

Yes, a sad ending. I do tend to kill off characters. Maybe I'm the new George RR Martin! :P

As you can imagine, I am really nervous about this chapter, so feedback is very highly appreciated.


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